


Double Lives

by TransformersG1fan271



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fiction, General fiction, Literature, Short Stories, prose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:19:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10706304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransformersG1fan271/pseuds/TransformersG1fan271
Summary: Stanford learns that his brother suffers in many forms.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love Fallout, and I love Fallout : D  
> [](http://tenshi-inverse.deviantart.com/) has come up with an AU featuring both and it's full of so much potential : D
> 
> I don't own these precious things --> Disney XD/Alex Hirsch/Bethesda Studios 
> 
> Enjoy!

This world was so… well fascinating was one word that came to Stanford Pines’ mind. It was almost exactly like his, aside from the massive nuclear annihilation that seemed to occur due to some big War everyone spoke of. The creatures he came across filled many pages in the journal that never ended, the weaponry something he constantly tinkered with whenever he came upon settlements. He hadn’t focused on the people much, until he came across a large settlement named Gravity Falls. They seemed to include many, Stanford feeling right at home. At first he thought of only staying for a few days, but days turned into a week, then almost a month. Not that he was complaining, Stanford rather enjoyed staying in on place, even if the land was inhospitable most of the time regardless.

But this all changed when he came across someone…painfully familiar, said someone currently sitting beside the researcher.

“Ya know, if ya mess up my hand…” The voice had a twinge of a Jersey accent to them, Stanford sighing quietly. He was focused on fixing up some very delicate circuitry, the crackle of the fire the only noise despite the huffing of the man beside him.

“I am almost done, please stop threatening me.” He muttered, sitting back a few minutes later with a sigh.

“Geeze, slow as always poindexter.” Stanford watched glowing yellow eyes roll at the remark, though he couldn’t force himself to be annoyed at the remark. It had been but three days ago when Stanford had quite literally run into the man beside him, though man wasn’t a fitting title. By technicality the man was known as a synth, but as far as Stanford knew there was no other synth like the man beside him. “Hey, still there?”

“O-Oh yes Stanley.” The name felt painful to say, the synth recoiling a bit at the name seemingly in just as much pain. “I was just…thinking.”

“About what?” The synth asked, the two settling back against the old couch they sat on. Stan had managed to get himself a nice little shack in the Gravity Falls area, most of its denizens seemingly not distressed to have a synth living among them.

“My travels…my past mistakes…” He sighed, reflexively reaching inside his coat for the worn little piece of paper that held no value to anyone else but himself. He withdrew his hand after running his thumb over the paper, Stan looking away with an awkward look. He and the synth had spent the last day and a half just talking about each other’s lives, and both tales were fraught with tragedy.

“Hey…I know I ain’t exactly Stanley…but I’m sure when you get back, things’ll work out, ya know?’ The synth shrugged, skeletal metal hand reaching inside a bag that Stan always had on him, withdrawing a beaten pair of glasses. From what he told Stanley, the synth was both Stan and at the same time not Stanley.

“Don’t devalue yourself.” Stanford smiled weakly, slowly placing a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“How can I not?” The man shrugged, yellowed eyes trained on his exposed hand that glinted in the light of the fire. “I’m not Stan Pines, yet he’s rattling around in this stupid brain of mine.” Stanford winced, unable to offer any sort of support.

“I’m sorry…I wish I could help you.” Stanford replied, his tone soft and full of regret. Stan shrugged, a wane smile tugging at his lips. From what Stanford knew, Stanley was indeed the original Stanley Pines, yet he also was not. His alternate self, over 200 years ago, had transferred Stan’s consciousness into some sort of code, to which a faction known as the Institute used sometime later. Other than that Stan had no other knowledge, and for the most part he didn’t care to know. Stan just wanted to live a peaceful life, and for a long time he had as Gravity Falls’ handyman. At least, he had until a man that seemed to be his long-dead brother just waltzed into town with an idiotic expression on his face, walking right past the surprised synth with his face buried into a book.

“Yea poindexter…so do I.” The rest of the night was spent in silence, Stan awake long after Stanford had dozed off on the spare bedroll the man offered. He didn’t know what to do with this man, but something deep in his programming told him to protect Stanford at all cost. So he would, until the multiverse would eventually call upon the male once again.  
  



	2. Researching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley is slightly horrified by how careless Stanford is during his research.

_”STANFORD WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”_ Stanley watched with widened yellow optics as the traveler sprinted rapidly towards him in the distance. What was highly concerning was the large creature following him with a loud roar, the synth grabbing the most powerful gun he had on him as Stanford drew closer. Stanford ducked when the creature swiped at him, researcher aiming the weapon he had been fiddling with while running and firing, electricity arcing in the air when he fired. Stanley darted forward when the beast collapsed forward, hoping that Stanford wasn’t under the massive and heavy beast as he skid to a stop before it.  
  
“Well that was rather interesting…” A familiar voice hummed from Stanley’s left, the synth sighing in relief when Stanford crawled out from under the deathclaw’s left arm. His hair was fluffed up and sticking out in all directions, a wild grin on his face as he glanced at the slightly smoking gun with a frown.  
  
“What did ya do Sixer?” Stanley asked curiously, the synth staying a considerable distance away as he didn’t quite feel up to being shocked accidentally by the weapon.  
  
“I merely knocked this beast unconscious, as I intend to study it.” He explained, the synth’s mouth dropping open as Stanford dug through his bag, pulling out his journal and a pencil. “What?”  
  
“Y-You just took out a deathclaw…but it’s still alive…and yer gonna write about it?!” Stan stammered, his surprise evident as the other shrugged. “You…are insane.”  
  
“Yes, I’ve been called that among many things.” Stanford pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, circling the deathclaw as he drew a rough sketch. “Are these deathclaws common?”  
  
“Uh, no?” The synth took a seat on a nearby stump, his surprise now turning to boredom and slight amusement at what he was watching. The original Stanley would have probably gone in and punched the damn thing in the face to protect his twin, then boasted as Stanford…would do the exact same thing and merely study the anomaly. The parallels between the original Pines twins from this universe, and that of the Stanford before him were staggering at times, leaving Stanley to often wonder what life would have been like had the world not ended. Of course, had that outcome happened, would he be here? Stan frowned at the thought, which seemed to be popping up as of late ever since Stanford had come into his life.  
  
“Stanley?” The question roused Stan from his thoughts, the traveler curiously glancing at him from beside the unconscious beast’s head. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Uh…yea I’m fine.” He shrugged, giving a weak smile that only caused Stanford to frown from his spot. “Look, ya done lookin? These things don’t tend to stay asleep for long….then again you did somethin’ weird so I wouldn’t know. But still…”  
  
“I suppose you’re right.” The man thought to himself, tapping his pencil against his chin with a slight thoughtful look. “It is a very fascinating creature, I must study more of them but perhaps later…”  
  
“How about never?” Stan grumbled, getting to his feet as Stanford took a closer glance at the animal. The synth rolled his eyes and dragged Stanford away despite his protests, a genuine smile tugging at his lips of memories from before the War coming to mind.  
  
  
  
_“You’re gonna get hurt!” Young Stan called out, watching his elder twin from behind a tree. His brother was slowly advancing towards a large sleeping dog, book and pencil in hand to try and sketch it out. The whisper had woken the dog, and the twins fled in terror…or rather Stanley was dragging his brother along as he tried to sketch the dog chasing after them._  
  
  
Stan shook his head at the memory belonging to a dead man, Stanford giving an odd look but said nothing as they trekked back to the closest settlement for the night. It always fascinated Stanford to see how people were rebuilding society little by little, often giving a hand with repairs or giving advice to those they came across. Stanley quite approved of this, Ford’s quiet companion as the traveler would often spend hours talking to those whom would listen to him, the wasteland dwellers always pleased to hear something different than the regular stories that cycled around.  
  
“Stanley, do you believe that one day this world will thrive?” Stan looked over from his spot in the half-destroyed building he had taken refuge in, the synth tilting his head.  
  
“Well…maybe one day.” He shrugged, poking at the fire a few feet in front of him. “I dunno, I don’t think I’ll be around to see it…”  
  
“Don’t give up hope.” Stanford spoke up, his gaze concerned. “I am sure you’ll find a reason to keep going.”  
  
“You’d be the only one.” The silence that followed was thick and unsettling, both men unable to give any sort of reply to it. The crackling fire was the only sound for the rest of the evening, both men wondering and worrying for the other.


	3. Of Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both twins fall ill in different ways.

_”LET ME GO YOU BASTARD! I AM AN AMERICAN CITIZEN AND YOU CANNOT KEEP ME LOCKED UP HERE!”_ Stanley Pines grunted as he struggled on the cot he was bound to, the room empty and securely locked from the outside. Outside of the room sat a lone figure, different pieces of circuitry and various other pieces of technology scattered around his feet. The man looked exhausted, dark rungs around his eyes as his nimble fingers worked on the circuits, seemingly looking for something. The piece was tossed aside when a faint trail of smoke soon rose from it, the man sighing as he rubbed at his eyes. _”LET ME OUT!”_  
  
“I wish I could…” The man muttered, his saddened gaze transfixed on the floor. His name was Stanford Pines, and he had been forced to keep the synth in the room behind him locked up for two weeks now. They had been attacked by Raider’s on their way back to town, and Stanley had suffered a nasty blow to the head during their scuffle, but the twins prevailed in the end. However, by that evening their celebration was far from joyous, Stanley twitching slightly as he and Stanford found a small building to spend the night. It had happened in an instant, Stanley attacking the other male after realizing it wasn’t his long dead twin, the two fighting it out until Stanford managed to tie Stanley down to the only bed. Ever since then Stanford had kept a close eye over the synth, desperately trying to come up with a way to fix the other male, but to no avail. Eyes drooping with exhaustion Stanford watched as the room began to spin a bit, prompting another sigh. Spending night after night exposed to the elements was taking its toll on Stanford, but he could not afford rest, not while Stanley was not in his proper mind.  
  
Stanford wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but it was well past dawn when his eyes slowly opened. His head felt like a sack of bricks when he straightened form his slumped posture against the door, reddened eyes blinking a few times as he unlocked the door to check up on Stanley. His eyes went wide when Stanford noticed the bed was empty, Stanley attacking from his left side with an angry cry. Reacting instinctively Stanford grabbed the stun baton he kept fastened to his side and smacked Stanley’s side, the electricity arching up in the air as the synth cried out in pain. Stanford grunted as one of Stanley’s flailing arms hit him with a solid right hook, the traveler seeing stars as Stanley collapsed on the floor beside him.   
  
“Stanley?” Stanford felt a cold fear coil in the pit of his stomach as the synth’s eyes flickered a few times before the yellow light faded to darkness. “S-Stan?! Stan wake up!” Stanford shook the synth a bit harder than needed, but it seemed to do nothing at the synth before him. “No no no no!” Stanford started to hyperventilate, not seeing the faint yellow glow returning to Stanley’s eyes as he tugged at his hair. “I-I can’t lose you, I know you’re not my brother but I can’t be responsible…” Stanford’s hysterical words began to turn more into an unintelligible gibberish the more he panicked.   
  
“Calm down will ya…?” Stanford froze at the weak voice, navy eyes looking down to see the synth looking at him with a confused look.   
  
“D-Do you know who I am?” Stanford asked, the man beyond exhausted as Stanley nodded.  
  
“Yea…did you force me to power down?” He asked in confusion, Stanford shaking his head as he helped Stanley up onto his feet. “All of my systems are all over the place…”  
  
“Some of that may have been from me.” Stanford sighed, sitting down heavily on the bed as Stanley gave a look. “You seem to have activated some sort of subroutine when those Raiders from a few weeks ago attacked us. I believe the Pre-War Stanley Pines has um, been in control since then, but I believe I fixed the problem.”  
  
“Huh…thanks.” Stanley offered a weak smile, though it quickly vanished when he noticed Stanford was swaying in his seat. “You doin’ alright there?” Before the synth could react, Stanford pitched forward, Stanley gently catching the man before he could hit the floor. “Shit!”  
  
“M sorry…” The man slurred, Stanley gently placing the exhausted man on the bed. He could feel the heat even on the exposed metal of his hand coming from Stanford’s forehead, a frown crossing his face as Stanford weakly tried to sit back up.  
  
“Sit down, yer sick.” Stanley said firmly, the other staring at him with a blank expression before lying back with an appreciative groan. It didn’t take Stanford long to doze off, leaving the synth relieved yet also worried. Stan didn’t know how to help anyone that was sick, sadly that was one of many things that wasn’t in the frazzled memories of a long dead man. In the few hours Stanford slept peacefully Stanley ran diagnostics, getting flashes of memoires from the last several days that made him cringe. It was no wonder that Stanford was violently ill, the synth grateful for a nearby bucket when Stanford woke hours later. The bucket wasn’t empty for long, the man groaning pitifully after emptying the contents of his stomach.   
  
“I know it sucks right now, but it’ll be ok.” Stanley tried to soothe the best he could, the other man flopping back onto the bed with a groan. By noon Stanford was stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, the man covered in sweat despite Stanley’s best efforts to keep him cool. At the few moments he wasn’t delirious, Stanford mentioned to Stanley he most likely had the flu. The synth raided a nearby abandoned clinic for anything he could find, but sadly nothing could help the sick traveler. To Stanford the world seemed to be against him. It was hard to breathe, his stomach seemed to be on a roller-coaster, he felt as if he was in a furnace one minute, and in the artic the next.   
  
“Ngh…S-Stanley?”   
  
“Ford?” The synth looked up from the gun he was cleaning out, the man on the bed looking up at him with glazed over eyes.  
  
“Y-You came back…” Stanford’s voice was hoarse from disuse, Stanley tilting his head in confusion as a relieved smile crossed over Ford’s face. “I-I thought you never would…”  
  
“What are you talking about?” The synth was confused, getting up when Stanford seemed like he was gonna sit up. “No, you need to lie down.”  
  
“M sorry Lee…” The man seemed to accept his fate as the synth gently pushed him down, six-fingered hand grabbing his skeletal wrist with a sigh. “Please don’t leave.”  
  
“I wouldn’t think of it.” Stan smiled awkwardly, realizing that Ford must have been hallucinating.   
  
“You sure?” Stanford looked almost scared at the thought, hazy blue eyes looking into his yellow ones.   
  
“I’m sure.” Stan nodded, moving his table closer so he could continue working on the gun. Stanford seemed pleased by this, the man sweating buckets as he apologized for letting his father kick Stanley out. The synth listened to him quietly, offering words of comfort whenever Stanford seemed on the verge of crying, which was often.  
  
“H-hey Lee?” Stanford coughed, the synth looking up from his magazine. It had been almost five days since Stanford had fallen ill, and Stan had grown used to the hallucinating male calling for him as if he was his own brother. “Can I say something?”  
  
“Sure, always.” The synth nodded, placing his magazine to the side.  
  
“If I could go back…back in time, I would stop Pop from kickin’ ya out.” He mumbled half-deliriously, Stan frowning lightly as Stanford curled in on himself. “I was a coward.”  
  
“No…no you weren’t.” Stan shook his head, the synth wincing as Stanford began to cry quietly.  
  
What was he supposed to say? He sighed and placed a comforting hand on Ford’s shoulder, the muffled sobs the only sounds as minutes ticked by.


End file.
